Destruction and Deliverance
On the border of Segmentum Obscurus and Segmentum Ultima two vast forces clash over a small habitable planet. One side fights with the desperation and tenacity born from righteous zeal and an unshakable faith, the other the unquenchable desire to feed and grow. The siege has lasted for weeks. Initially the system ships and the majority of Scipio VI orbital defenses were annihilated over the course of a few weeks. Their sacrifice stalled the invaders and gave the defenders precious time to rally. Those lives and the time gained were spent well as a slow tide of men and ships poured into the systems. Small at first, escort sized vessels up to kilometer zoomed through the warp, the vanguard of a much larger force. As those ships enter the contested system it is choked with the debris of the fallen and the large hateful forms of the xeno threat. The frigates and destroyers move swiftly to secure the jump point and wait for the first wave. Hours pass as the tide grows with each newly arriving vessel. An armada is formed and at the word of its master charges.
As the battle lines in space collide the situation on the surface is deteriorating at an alarming pace. The PDF soldiers though willing are a poorly equipped and poorly led force. They are pushed back district by district, continent by continent until half of the planet is being consumed by the chitin clad horde. In the airless void the hive senses its approaching foe and gathers its strength. The onslaught of death slows on the planet below as the living ships gather their numbers and prepare to kill their would-be slayers. The approaching fleet forms long stately rows with packs of escorts and heavy ships spread out among the masses. As one the eagle adorned prows spit fire and fury as hundreds of torpedoes are launched. The release of energy obscures sensors and causes arrays to spark as they are overloaded.
As the torpedoes race to deliver His Judgment to the tyranid swarm, the Norn Queen sends a wave of spores, escorts, and pryo-acid into the approaching plasma storm. Explosions erupt throughout the massed torpedo wave. From the perspective of the teeming masses on Scipio VI it seemed that the heavens themselves were burning. For every torpedo that exploded another got through to hit the tyranids. The nimble escorts used their superior speed and agility to dodge the lumbering missiles and destroy them in hail of defensive fire or slam into them saving a cruiser or hive ship from damage. As the slaves and ratings struggle to reload the three hundred meter long weapons of divine justice, a few nova cannon equipped ships open fire into the counter-charging mass of tentacles and nightmares. The massive shells tear through the protective spore clouds of a handful of Razorfiend cruisers. The mass-reactive shells annihilated the targeted ships in flashes of fire and plasma as the hungry flames consumed the living ship.
The lines come closer as the torpedo wave is fired again and this time attack craft are released in their thousands. A swirling dog fight erupts as the Furies and Starhawks begin their dance of death with the tyranid escorts and Mycetic Spores over thousands of kilometers. The combine ordinance wave overwhelms dozens of drones and cruisers their pulsing hull and cracked and burnt by the plasma weapons of the Imperial Navy. Their foe does not care as hundreds die for the horde can easily replenish its losses. The Mycetic Spores break through the swarm of fury star fighters and attack the Imperial capital ships. Uncaring they plunge into and through the murderous anti-air fire that the capital ships throw out. The pods bore through the thick adamantium armor of the Imperial ships with little resistance. Unleashing their cargoes' of hormagaunts, warriors, and other bio forms, the Imperial ships choose death over being eaten. Gaps were ripped in the Imperial line as ship after ship self-destructed taken thousands of tyranids with them to the warp. The battle in space that would ultimately determine the fate of the planet and sector grounds to a bloody stalemate as the Imperial Navy and Tyranid ships break contact to regroup and gather more forces to renew the slaughter.
That was a month ago, as the Sector Commanders recognized the severity of the threat they began to gather a proper crusade fleet to oust the xenos from the Scipio System the end the specter of another large scale tyranid incursion. They called for the aid of neighboring battlegroups and chapters of the Adeptus Astrates to help them. Elements from the Dark Angels, Imperial Fists, and the Sky Reavers responded with small fleet. The Battle-barges Undying Faithof the Dark Angels and the Gloria Ignotus of the Sky Reavers along with several strike cruisers of the Imperial Fists. This showing of Imperial might is backed up by numerous Astrates escorts and several battlegroups drawn from all over the Segmentum including veteran ships of Battlefleet Gothic. The tyranids have be stopped from taking more of the planet and expanding their feeding grounds, but they still control half of its surface and that biomass is allowing them to replenish their vast numbers as well as resources of the system.
From the cavernous bridge of the Emperor Class battleship Sword of Asgardia Lord Tiberius Hoeth, Admiral of an Imperial Battlegroup, takes in the activities and progress of his command staff at a glance of cold visage. Pulled from his home system of Dracaris VI and sent halfway across the Segmentum to deal with tyranids. Internally he rages, "Tyranids. My ships and I, who have left a still chaos ridden sector to come all the way across half the galaxy to deal with overgrown bugs, should not be here. We should be in our home sector killing traitors and idolaters not soulless bugs." Outwardly he is a block of iron with cold eyes and a merciless rage toward his foes and incompetents. His Flag-Captain Craig Von Speer walks up to his customary position on the bridge. Slightly behind and below the pulpit he clicks his heels and braces to attention ready to be acknowledged and relay orders to the various stations.
"Milord," begins Von Speer, "We have been directed to escort the Titus and the Terrible Angel to the orbitals surrounding the third planet. Apparently those orbitals are a massive power relay for the system and serve as an alternate shipyard. We are to deal with the void defenses and provide armsmen and guardsmen to support the Terminators of the Imperial Fists."
"So Speer we have traveled half way across the galaxy just to be relegated to a side show?" remarks Hoeth. "If that is what the Fleet Master desires so be it. We will not be found wanting in our duty to the Emperor. Signal the Ave Imperator (Armageddon battlecruiser) as well as our pair of Dictator class cruisers the Lord Solar Macharius and the Fidelis to join on us. We will do this quickly so we can get back to the main battle."
"At once milord," Speer says quietly before turning and shouting my wishes to the rest of the bridge crew. Junior officers quickly relay my commands over the vox to the astropathic choir in order to efficiently command my fleet. As my ships divide themselves into two group's one lead by me on the battleship and the other lead by Commodore Tyranus on the Pride of Caledor anancient and powerful Mars class battlecruiser.
We are heading toward the orbitals as the strike cruiser enter our formation, flanking my battleship on either side. Their golden yellow hull contrast greatly with my ships deep blue and dark green colors. As our sensors draw a detailed picture of the tyranid forces around the orbitals. One Leviathan hive ship that the machine-spirit and logic engines have designated Devourer-1. It is escorted by a dozen escorts and three Razorfiends which are designated Hunters 1-3. From the command pulpit I steel my soul and notion for Speer to get every soldier, sailor, and marine listening on the vox. "Warriors and servants of the Emperor. In His Name will give battle. It is His Fury we will deliver to the foul xenos. For the galaxy belongs to Him and we shall cleanse the stars in according to His Will. All ships battle-speed, rise shields to full power, and ready all weapons. These xenos have invoked His Wrath and so we will burn them from the void and cast them into the warp. The Emperor protects." With his pre-battle sermon complete Hoeth feels the fire of war burn strongly in his soul and the souls of his men. Turning his steely gaze from the forward auspex viewport to his Masters of Ordinance and Weapons. "Gentlemen," Hoeth commands in a cold voice lace with rage and pride, "Launch standard combat wings as we approach the xenos and fire as soon as we are in range. Let us thin out the escorts before the main force engages us." Both officers salute and quickly ensure that their master's wishes are carried out.
As the ships millennia old engines push the battleships scarred bulk through the void, Hoeth looks up to a shadowy part of the bridge. Spotting a flash of sliver in the gloom Hoeth calls out, "Commissar I want all security teams at one hundred percent combat readiness. If Throne forbid we get boarded I don't want to sacrifice my ship because of some cowardly armsmen. Get those bastards in the Guard to reinforce key points." The grim scarred face of the Commissar nods once and stalks off of the bridge and into the bowels of the ship. Turning to the helmsmen I order a course change, "Take us in a wide turn so we can approach the orbitals from side so our escorts can lend their fire." The gravity swifts slightly as the battleship begins the slow ponderous turn that is the hallmark of an Imperial capital ship.
The Hive Mind pulses as it senses the approaching ships. The bio-ships form a wedge and charge the Imperial ships hoping to get into a close quarters brawl where they would have the advantage. The Imperial ships fall back on the massed torpedo volley as the ships open fire from extreme range. As the torpedoes race toward the targets Hoeth has taken a tactic used by Capt. Semper of the Lord Solar Macharius against ork infestations, fighters and bombers flying in the energy wake of the missiles. While the spore batteries of the escorts are distracted the fighters will hopefully screen the bombers long enough to allow them to launch their missiles, overwhelming the front ranks of escorts.
"Shit, Shit, Shit," curses Reaper Lead as his fury is again buffeted by the extreme and violent energies of the plasma wake of the leading torpedoes. As various runes on his fury flash from red to a pulsing green. "Thank the Emperor and you as well Vega," Reaper says over the inter-ship vox. On the squadron communication channel, "All Reapers and Scythes report status." The panel in lower left of the cockpit flashes all green. Smiling he offers up a quick prayer to the Emperor and voxes Capt. Semeper on the Macharius, "Mach Lead this Reaper Lead, sucker punch is ready all ships in the green. Ready to engage." On the Macharius Semper looks over to Mister Nyder and nods slightly. Nyder transmits the mission parameters to the short burn torpedoes and they accelerate in response.
The tyranid escorts charge the approaching torpedoes their pyro-acid batteries warming and readying to fire. The Hive mind commands and the escorts obey. Just as they launch their first volatile salvo the torpedoes hyper-accelerate along with their shadows. The first salvo of pyro-acid misses as the Hive is surprised by the short-burn torpedoes. The escorts release their spores and wait for the missile to get closer. The spores charge forth with a singled-minded purpose, to destroy the incoming torpedoes.
Counting quietly Reaper-One clicks the vox and climbs out of the plasma wake of the torpedoes. His ship is quickly joined by nineteen additional fighters. As soon as each pilot gets the warbling tone in his headset they fire. The Hive-Mind controlling the spores is stunned for a few seconds not anticipating this ploy. In a dogfight a few seconds means death as the void streak missiles slam into the onrushing spores killing dozens and scattering more. The escorts immediately open fire with their pyro-acid and release their guardian spores, leaving them vulnerable until they are able to produce more. As the fighters weave through the deadly storm of fire, explosions dot the void as furies are hit by the acid. Lascannons and acid beams are traded as the guardian spores meet the fighter squadron at hundreds of kilometers a second. A swirling melee of death forms as the pilots try to out think and fight pure killing instinct. This allows for the Starhawks bombers of Scythe squadron to slip in underneath the melee of aircraft and flak storm, closing in on the escorts. Last ditch acid batteries come to life and fill the void with molecular fire as the bombers start their approach runs. The few spores that have been regrown are swatted aside by massed turret fire, ruby red beams slice through flesh and armor like a pillar of holy flame. The spores combust and die a fiery death. Ten seconds out the bomb bays open and a dozen plasma missiles each are launched.
The bombers tighten their formations and run back to their mothership as their escorting fighter's sell their lives in the bid to escape. The missile remorselessly home in on their targets as the escorts dance all over the vastness of space. It is not enough as six of escorts are overwhelmed with armor-piercing plasma missile turning each ship into a short lived inferno, then star as reactors explode one by one. Of the remaining six escorts three charge the torpedoes wave with every weapon pod and spine launcher firing, sacrificing themselves so that the hive ship may avoid damage. The other three move into a close formation with the hive to act as a final barrier against harm.
On the Bridge of the Asgardia, listening to the vox chatter of the pilots as they fight in the service of Emperor, a small smile emerges on Hoeth's face. "Master of Ordinance," begins Hoeth in a cold voice, "Wait to reinforce the retuning aircraft. I want to draw their fighters and assault boats into the no-man's land between the two fleets and kill them." The hive ship releases its spores and organic strike craft in an attempt to even the odds of the fight and get revenge. The surviving planes of Reaper and Scythe are trying to escape the retribution of the tyranids. Their battle-damaged planes are leaking air and fuel and each pilot's blood went cold as warning runes pop on screens showing the massive assault wave bearing down on them and the fleet.
Each pilot is pushing their craft to the limit as the bio-fighters close the gap, as one they open fire. The wave of plasma and molecular acid wipes out half of the surviving aircraft. Their shattered hulls explode one by one as they are melted by the virulent compounds. As the surviving Reapers break formation and hope to buy the bombers more time they notice another swarm of Tyranid aircraft bearing down on the fleet, scans reveal the ominous profiles of bordering craft. Reaper Lead is faced with a choice abandon the bombers to head of the assault boats or risk a potentially devastating bordering attack of one His Divine Majesties Ship. Duty is clear, the fleet matters more than a few dozen bomber crew. "All Reapers form hunting pairs and attack the assault boats," Reapers voice is heavy over the vox, "The Emperor Protects." Ignoring the calls of the frantic bomber pilots as their escorts peel off. Reaper watches on one of the rune screens as the bombers disappear one by one.
As the weaken fighter squadron attacks the vulnerable transports Hoeth's reinforcements slam into the Tyranids as they turn to defend the transports. Outnumbered ten to one the tyranid fighter craft are wiped out with overwhelming force. The transports die under the massed lascannon fire as the furies sweep through their ranks burning strong with holy vengeance for the fallen bomber crews. The Hive mind is recalculating its chances to win. It comes up with a simple gambit, use its spores, escorts, and cruisers as a shield as it charges the battleship and rips it's to pieces thus scattering the Imperial ships for ease of destruction.
"Milords the enemy ships have shifted their formation a veritable wall of targets are rushes right at us all screening the throne cursed hive ship," shouts the Officer of the Deck. Nodding I call up the information on the surviving fighter and bomber wings in the void. A slight smile forms as there are enough aircraft to sacrifice.
Looking back to the ODD I begin, "Very Well. Order all ships to open fire when they are within range. Coordinate battery fire with lance strikes. Also get the lead Astrates on the vox for me." I look back into the blackness of space as Von Speer relies my orders, I feel my ship rumble and shake as its enormous weapons batteries open fire. Plasma rounds and adamatium slugs tear across the void, a barrage capable of devastating a hive city in a single strike tears an escort into pieces. Only debris is left as the spores are scattered by the heat and momentum of the volley.
The tyranids push forward as wave after wave of Myceptic spore and bio fighter is released creating a swirling dogfight across millions of kilometers between the two fleets. It does not care as the Imperial ships shred through the protective cloud of spores it takes the dead screams of the escorts without pause. Only the desire to fed, to growth, to expand fill its thoughts.
The forward communication screen cackles to life as the static form the weapons barrages are slowly cleared. The imposing scared face of an Imperial Fist Terminator fills the screen. "Honored Astrates," I begin, "Does your ship carry an exterminatus torpedoes?" His answer may be the key to deal with this splinter quickly so I can bring my ships to bear against the main threat in orbit above Scipio VI.
"Yes we do Admiral. Why do you wish to use them?" the giant asks.
"Yes I do. I will take my ships in a fighting wedge and meet the xenos in close range fighting. You will use your strike cruiser speed to slip underneath their defensive screen and annihilate them with a cyclonic torpedo strike. It will be quick and of less risk to our ships so we can secure the orbitals and get back to the main fight."
"Very Well Admiral I agree to your plan. Ave Imperator." Replies the Imperial Fist.
Shouting, "Bring the ships in close and make ready close action. I want all fighters in close escort. No spore gets through. The Emperor Protects." The bridge crew snaps to orders as the ships close to a mutual supporting distance. All I have to do now is stomach the cost of this fight as I had every other fight. Thousands will die soon on my orders just as thousands are already dead. In service to the Emperor I would gladly sacrifice them all for victory.
The two fleets close the space becomes thick with fire. Void shields flash as titanic waves of energy crash into them. Ships rock as their broadside cannons shout their faith and fury in reply. The Ave Imperator locks all of its weapons on to a charging Razorfiend and fires. Dozens of Marco cannon shells crack and split its thick hull. As the living ship writhes in agony the four lance turrets unleash their hateful energies. Thick beams hotter than a star ply over the hiss rents igniting the air and slicing through flesh like butter. The razorfiend screams as it body is burned and the creaming stops as its reactors explode in a violent flash. The nearest escort could evade in time and is consumed by the blue-white wave of primordial power. Both ships are reduced to atoms in a blink of an eye.
That wave of death tore open a whole in the Hive protective spores. As it struggles to respawn the cloud the two strike cruisers move swiftly for the kill. As the Imperial vessel continue to slug it out with the bio-ships. Their shields are flickering causing the hull to take fire. The ships shrug off wave after wave of bio-plasma and pyro-acid as their outer armored decks are vented to space. A trail of bodies and wreckage clog the battle-space as the strike cruisers slip inside the kill zone. Like an executioners blade the two strike cruiser move with swift deliberate purpose. Their prows flash with fire as they each fire a pair of torpedoes. As the Imperial ships detect the launch the guns fall silent as power is routed to the shields. The Cyclonic warheads have been undetected until they explode, the tyranids are gone. A flash of light, a supernova explosion and then gone. The Hive mind did not even have time to register the loss of the ships as the warp took them to oblivion.
The energy wave slammed into the Imperial vessels like a tidal wave of damnation. Hoeth and the rest of the bridge is thrown about as the first two layers of the voids shields are shattered. Spitting the blood from his mouth Hoeth takes a moment to fix his uniform, an admiral must at all times uphold the standards of His Divine Majesty's Navy, before his booming command voice cuts through the chaos. "Damage Report on the Fleet now." He roars. Subordinates check and double check monitors as servitors are reattached to consoles and the dead cleared.
Von Speer his head bleeding from a long gash reports, "All shields are offline. The generators are in standby. The Magos is tending to the reactors along with several of his must senior adepts. The Lord Solar managed to protect itself from the blast wave by hiding behind us. The Fidelis and the Ave Imperator are currently dead in space. Their power systems have failed. We are currently at 77 percent effectiveness, once the main reactors are back online the ship will be find except for the gun ports 1B to 2D Milord. They were gutted by a volley of bio-plasma. The compartments were vented." With his report finished the XO begins a tour of the ship to inspect any major sites of damage.
"Very Well. We will remain here to repair our ships as well as support the Imperial Fists in securing the station. Get me the Titus on the vox." Says Hoeth to the ODD. The man salutes and the comm screen crackles to life. "Honored Astrates you are cleared to take the station. We will render any assistance if necessary or requested by you or your brothers."